Like this:

Alex Wubbels is our leader. I want a tattoo of her face, on my face. So when people get out of line with me, I can show them my Wubbels.

Her arrest has gone viral for being shitty and wrong. Many scary, wrong things have happened to me as critical care nurse as well. But nothing could have prepared this poor woman for being arrested for simply advocating patients rights and clarifying hospital protocol (which was mutually agreed upon by the hospital and the police department in question, might I add). My God, that detective leapt at her like a rabid banshee! He’s lucky the holy hell of nurses didn’t rain down upon him then and there! There probably wasn’t time, he skedaddled out of there.

You would think people would have learned their lesson from The View, you don’t f@&$ with nurses. We take shit too, cops. I’ve held the hand of mom while she withdrew care from her teenage son and walked into the next room to feed a restrained, belligerent alcoholic some chocolate pudding. All while keeping a cool head.

And if that idiot detective ever does something else stupid like lights his face on fire and lands in Alex’s care one fine day, I know he will receive first class and professional care, as if they had never met (Lord knows he won’t have any unnecessary blood draws). Because if there is one thing I can tell you, us nurses can hand you your ass when need be. But when it’s time to save lives, it doesn’t matter what your name is, your life matters just as much as the next guy.

What happens to my baby for the three hours she is out of my sights Monday through Friday?

Because she’s been doing this for a week now and she’s down a pound, begging for naps, and acting like she’s never been fed.

I send her to this primary colored looking baby love-me-land looking all tidy with her pigtails and cute dress. And I pick up this wild eyed, frizzy haired monstery midget with marker hands who is now dressed in someone else’s clothes, has one ponytail (I think), and a demonic voice is coming from her general direction demanding Spaghetti-O’s.

I can’t keep those things on the shelf either. Stupid Spaghetti-O’s (no I won’t Google how to really spell it!) And we’ve moved on to the “feeds 16 monsters midgets with marker hands” cans but it doesn’t matter because kid doesn’t even taste them. I’m thinking about getting her a straw next time to expedite things.

Oh and, I’m only allowed to warm them in the pan whilst she’s ripping her strangers clothes off with closed eyes, SCREAMING how she’s not tired. So about 30 seconds of “cooking”. But then they’re still, “TOO HOT MOMMY!”

My God people, be good to your teachers. I’m pretty sure most of them are currently thinking “why the hell didn’t I become a dentist?”

How do you break the funk and get back to the blogging you love so much? Yea it’s true that my real world suffered a loss this summer, but I can’t quit life because my dad passed. He’d be pissed. Although maybe he is now since I never told him about the blog. Sorry dad, even Hubby et al. doesn’t know. But I digress. Please help me break free from the funk. Inspire me!